


Well That's Unprecedented

by mcschnuggles



Series: Flip for It [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, CGRE - Caregiver/Age Regressor, Gen, Light Angst, Regressing!Aziraphale, Regressing!Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale both need some time to recover.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Flip for It [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476851
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50
Collections: Regressuary, Regressuary 2020





	Well That's Unprecedented

It’s over.

The world is saved, the apocalypse was averted, and Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s crazy scheme ended up working out perfectly, so now they’re back in the right bodies and free to live however they want.

Whoop-dee-doo.

Crowley could honestly collapse on the sidewalk right now and sleep through the next fifty years. Everything for the past few weeks has been nothing but exhausting, taxing work. The only consolation for anything is that his angel is alive and well and right beside him.

They return to Aziraphale’s bookshop, ignoring the fire damage and general dishevelment for now. He’s sure they’ll have to fix things up later, but as for right now, he couldn’t care less. After all, they have the rest of eternity to clean up this bloody shop. For now, he needs to rest.

“Lunch at the Ritz?” Crowley offers. He swaggers around the giant sigil, half-burned onto the floor, and lazily peruses the books that are left. There aren’t many, but it’ll only be a matter of time before it’s back to its former glory. Crowley will see to that personally.

Aziraphale pauses, a tick of nervousness creeping into his grin. “How about a coin flip instead?”

Oh thank God in all Her wisdom. Crowley bites back a laugh, knowing it must be written all over his face if his angel is already suggesting the coin flip. Usually they have at least a little banter.

“My pleasure. Heads.” He produces a coin from his pocket and flips it over the center table, now empty of any books.

By a miracle—or more accurately, by two miracles at once—the coin lands squarely on its side.

“Well, that’s unprecedented.” Crowley muses, only for his stomach to drop as he looks up and makes eye contact with a very teeny Aziraphale.

And that would be why.

“Well, then. Looks like it’s a playdate.” Crowley jokes. It’s his weak attempt at lightening the mood in a situation where he is so very dearly out of his depth.

Aziraphale smiles shyly, his cheeks going that soft shade of pink that make them so utterly pinchable.

Since Crowley’s the talker, he assumes he’s in charge and takes Aziraphale’s hand. “Let’s have a nice long nap, yeah?”

Aziraphale doesn’t protest. In fact, he makes a beeline for the bed as soon as they enter their shared bedroom.

Crowley barely has time to take off his shoes before he sees Aziraphale already burrowed in the blankets, holding _Great Expectations_ in his hands.

“ _Nooo_ ,” Crowley moans. “I am not reading you that bloody book again.”

Aziraphale whines, and Crowley whines right back.

“Read your own book. Take a nap. But I am _not_ reading to you.”

“Nanny Ashtoreth would.”

“Well, Nanny Ashtoreth isn’t here.” Crowley snaps. He retrieves his favorite lovey, a plush stuffed owl, from the back of their closet and holds it to his chest. Its weight is enough to undo some of the pressure building in his head. Mr. Owl only comes out in very dire circumstances, and having an equally small Aziraphale (who very much does _not_ care for Stabby, mind you) certainly counts.

Mr. Owl sits in a very special tote, one that contains Crowley’s littler items. It’s rarely used, because rarely does Crowley ever have a reason to need a soft children’s toy, a pacifier, and a tiny plush blanket, but today is one of those days. Well, for the owl at least.

Crowley unwinds the owl, wrapped tightly in the blanket, and lets the other two items fall back into the tote. He’s about to go back to bed when he realizes he’s been chewing on his lip since they’d gotten back from the park, which has only come to his attention because of the blood blossoming on his lower lip. If Aziraphale weren’t regressed, he’d probably be dropping gentle suggestions that Crowley should make use of his pacifier.

With an exaggerated sigh, Crowley takes off his sunglasses and pops his paci into his mouth. It’s no fun to rebel when there isn’t someone to nag you for it, so he won’t even bother. Never mind that he’s so tired he doesn’t even think he could keep up that sort of charade if he wanted to. That isn’t important.

Aziraphale has given up on his book and is instead pouting. It’s a solid strategy, and if Crowley were in any other headspace, it’d most definitely work.

While the thought first makes Crowley grin, a frown almost immediately takes its place. They’re both so used to getting their respective ways. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Crowley shouldn’t have miracled the coin in his favor. He should’ve picked up on Aziraphale’s distress and just let him have today. It would’ve been easier.

But as Crowley climbs into the opposite side of the bed, he quickly finds himself enveloped by a very warm, very cuddly bundle of angel, and some of his fears dissipate.

If anything, at least they both like to cuddle while regressed. Good, because if there’s one thing that Crowley will never wear on his own, it’s those atrocious fuzzy socks Aziraphale bought for him. Yes, they retain his body heat well enough, but they’re the ugliest things God ever allowed to exist. They sit in his tote as well, but he likes to outright pretend they don’t even exist.

He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time. Instead, he stays awake, his fist clutching the hem of Aziraphale’s jumper, and for good reason.

His dreams aren’t kind to him.

He dreams returning to Aziraphale’s bookshop, only to be greeted by an empty shop. Gabriel looming over him, grinning that awful, devilish grin of his and informing him that downstairs decided to carry through with Crowley’s execution regardless. That he’d never see his angel again.

And that’s when dark clouds split the sky.

The apocalypse begins.

Crowley jerks awake, glaring at the ceiling. Moonlight and city lights trickle in from behind the curtains, so it must be late at night. His body is shaking, caught in a horrible limbo between hot and cold. It’s always like this when his dreams get out of hand.

Maybe sleeping through the next few decades isn’t such a great idea.

It’s now that he’s aware of the eyes on him.

He turns to see Aziraphale staring at him with the same wide, fearful eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he had a similar dream.

There’s a single, tense moment between them before their reservations go flying out the window, and they fling themselves at each other. Crowley clings so hard that his fists hurt from how tightly he holds them, and he can only imagine Aziraphale is doing the same.

“I was so scared I was going to lose you, angel.” Crowley gasps. The dam finally breaks, and he slumps over Aziraphale’s shoulders, sobbing freely.

“Me too.” Aziraphale admits. His voice is small, but his body shakes.

“Did you have a bad dream too?”

Aziraphale nods, his curls brushing up against Crowley’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, angel.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“Dunno. It’s just what you say.”

Crowley laughs at that, and buries himself in Aziraphale’s embrace. The last of his shivers rattle out of his body, leaving his body all kinds of exhausted, but he doesn’t think he can go back to sleep if he tried.

Instead, the two of them sit there in bed, holding each other, no words shared between them. Aziraphale must be too tiny for words again, and admittedly, Crowley doesn’t feel too far off either.

And that’s okay.

Because for once, neither of them have nowhere else to be.

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


End file.
